Poet Panhandler or Panhandler Poet?

 

 

Three weeks ago, I stationed myself by the Center Street entrance to Fresh Market's parking lot with my "Poet for Hire" sign. Heavy traffic meant a lot of people would see it.
But my hopes that people would stop to inquire about commissioning me didn't pan out. I just got a sunburn, that's all.
So I moved down Center Street to settle under a tree by Hruska's Kolache Bakery. The response was better; I got a few commissions for poems. The foot traffic is good between 6:30 a.m. and Noon.
But as I've shared earlier, ChatGPT can now write rhyming verses just as well as me – so there's no more fun doing it. Not for me. Besides, the Venmo account isn't working anymore.
I floundered around with writing out some long topical verses to display at the kolache place – but people either hurried mindlessly by or stopped to argue with me. All I wanted was some simple appreciation, not a debate.
So, last week, I switched to simple haiku verses. And that did the trick. No more arguments. It only takes 15 seconds to read one, so more people stop to read. And the more obscure I make my haiku, the more often people seem to appreciate it.
In addition, I placed an empty food storage can in front of my wheelchair (yes, I use a wheelchair – mainly because it's more comfortable than a folding chair and easier to transport) and was pleasantly surprised that even people who don't bother to read my haiku still put money in the can. They think I'm a homeless derelict, I guess. What I have come to think of myself as genuinely being is a poet panhandler or a panhandler poet. And please be forewarned that I will include all snarky email responses I receive from the four people I am sharing this with in future posts. So watch your mouse.

What follows is a daily account of how this stunt works out. Let's start with today – Thursday, August 24th. 2023.

I arrived in front of Hruska's Kolaches at 7:03 a.m. this morning. The weather was cool and cloudy.
Hruska's is sandwiched between two pawn shops. It's a tiny place. Not more than five people can get inside to order at one time. Luckily, they have six picnic tables on an asphalt lot adjacent to the bakery.

Today's haiku:
Ants on the sidewalk.
Just how many have I squished?
A jury awaits.

I also drew a cardboard sign: "DO NOT FEED THE POET."
That one was used only twice today. For brief intervals. Both times, it got a gaping, startled facial response. Nothing verbal. I'll play with it some more tomorrow.

My first donation of $2.00 came at 7:09 a.m.

At 7:26 a.m., a woman gives me a sausage & gravy kolache.

At 7:330 a.m., another lady gives me a twenty dollar bill, first asking anxiously: "Are you taking money?" To which I reply vigorously: "I sure am!"

It's interesting to see what people do with their brown paper bags after they've extracted their kolache. Some fold it up and keep it. Some crumple it into a ball to toss in the trash can. Nobody ever inflates it to pop. That's what I did with every single paper bag I ever got my hands on as a kid. From personal research, I'm happy to report that the Kolache place uses a good quality paper bag made by Duro Bags that can be inflated, shut, and smashed together for an altogether satisfying loud report.

The city is tearing up the street and sidewalks by the kolache place to make way for more parking space. It's a hellacious amount of noise on occasion. Construction lasts for two more weeks. After five hours or so of such din, I get the megrims. But all artists must suffer . . .


At 8:29 a.m., a man in a dark business suit puts a dollar in the can.

A young man, grinning like a gecko, comes up to ask: "How many have you squished?"
I tell him: "Over a lifetime, maybe a million."
He offers to fist-bump me. I oblige.

At 7:42 a.m., I take my first bathroom break. I'm on diuretic medication, so I need to pee a lot. It's a two-block walk over to Fresh Market. I barely made it without having an accident. Their men's room is ill, and the toilet stall is filled with monotonous graffiti of the '***k Biden' variety. And their toilet paper is thinner than graphene membrane.
                                                                                                                                           
I take another bathroom break at 9:01 a.m.
I'll try the Provo City Hall men's room in the lobby tomorrow. It's about a half block less of a walk.

At 9:30 a.m., a young girl gives me $5.00.

At 10:16 a.m., a young woman puts a dollar in my can and says, "Have a nice day." I don't think she bothered to read my haiku.

A man named Jacob stops by to share with me a poem he has written, entitled 'Yourself more than grasses and wood."  It's something about crickets and asphalt streets. I pretend to listen with great interest, hoping he'll feed the kitty—no such luck. I wish him good luck with his poetry, and he mercifully leaves without wanting to discuss the craft of poetry with me.

At 11:47 a.m., I'm ready to call it a day. But there are six white-shirted guys with neckties at one of the picnic tables – are they any good for a donation, I ask myself. They have all read my haiku and smiled at it. So, I gave them ten more minutes before taking off. They leave at 11:54 a.m.  No donations. The momsers. 

Where are the Philadelphia Office Workers? (Dedicated to Katie Mogg.)

 

 

In the heart of Philadelphia, tales are spun,
Of office workers, who've found a new kind of fun.
No longer confined to tall buildings of glass,
They’ve discovered a secret, and let the old ways pass.

“Why return?” they ask, sipping tea from a mug,
Wrapped in blankets, all snug as a bug.
For their pets now assist in the daily grind,
Dogs on keyboards, and cats who remind.

Once they’d rush through the streets, to catch a train,
Now they laugh at the thought, it’s clearly insane!
Why wear shoes, when socks will do?
Or trousers, when pajamas have the better view?

By the Liberty Bell, they’ve claimed a new right,
To work from the couch, both day and night.
The whispers speak of a magical chair,
That massages and warms, beyond compare.

Some say it’s the cheese steaks, so close at hand,
Others believe it's the allure of home-bands.
A guitar break here, a drum solo there,
Who could compete with such domestic flair?

Is it the sunlit corners, or gardens that bloom?
Or simply the solace of their own room?
Whatever the reason, in Philly they stay,
Home is where work is, come what may.

But if you ever find the answer, clear and true,
Please let us know, for we're curious too!
Till then, let them be, in their homebound glee,
For a happier worker, there may never be.

The Monarch Butterfly. (Dedicated to Kori Rumore Finley.)

 

 

In the realm of dancing sunlight beams,  
Where the meadow meets the sky,  
The monarch, in its golden dreams,  
Flits and floats and flutters by.

With wings kissed by tangerine hues,  
Veined in rivers of obsidian thread,  
Its majesty none could refuse,  
A floating tapestry widespread.

In migration’s mighty quest,  
Thousands journey to the sun,  
From the north, south, east, and west,  
A symphony, perfectly spun.

Its metamorphosis, a tale so old,  
From humble caterpillar, green and stout,  
In chrysalis, secrets begin to unfold,  
Till a monarch, in glory, comes out.

In gardens, where children play and laugh,  
Their delicate wings ignite youthful awe,  
Tracing paths on nature's behalf,  
An embodiment of nature's law.

The whisper of its fleeting flight,  
Echoes life's transient song,  
Yet in its short span shines so bright,  
Teaching us to be strong.

Hail to thee, Monarch of the day,  
Symbol of endurance, grace, and might,  
In your beauty, you lead the way,  
Guiding us from dawn to twilight.

Politicians Need Oversight. (Dedicated to Robert Greene.)

 

 

In halls of power where voices ring,
Decisions made, where hopes do cling,
Yet shadowed hearts oft go astray,
When ethics' light dims and fades away.

For politicians, in noble guise,
Can lose their way, forget the prize,
Of service true and public trust,
When ambition's call turns hearts to dust.

Without a watchful eye to guard,
The line 'tween right and wrong grows hard,
For power can taint the purest soul,
And make one's noble goals unwhole.

An oversight, strong and clear,
Might keep them straight, dispel the fear,
That they, unchecked, might bend the law,
And towards their own desires draw.

For in the watchful gaze of few,
The many find a path that's true,
A safeguard 'gainst the darker side,
Where unchecked power and ego reside.

Oh, let not trust be so naive,
That we let slip what we believe,
Ensure a panel, firm and just,
Keeps politicians bound to trust.

In them we place our hopes and dreams,
Yet oversight ensures it seems,
That ethics’ call, both loud and grand,
Will guide each choice and every hand.

scams

 

 

ever since old Barnum had the Fiji mermaid shown

Americans their dollars on such stuff have always blown.

we like to think we're able to discern 'tween right and wrong;

but hucksters find us easy prey and rob us with a song.

because we think that money grows on trees across the street;

because we do not want to work, but gather manna sweet.

because we think we're owed so much in this here promised land --

the scammers can relieve us of at least a couple grand.

banks, of course, are quite legit, and so is Wall Street, too --

so if you lose your shirt to them you shouldn't feel too blue.

try crypto-coin or gold bullion for safety and repose.

(Me, I stuff my dollar bills inside some pantyhose.)

 

Bottled Water.

 

 

I drank from the garden hose as a kid.

It tasted of vinyl and something of squid.

But no one today would touch such a source;

'twould fill them with fear and likely remorse.

It's got to be bottled and from pristine spring --

and cannot be bought for just a shoestring.

 

Shakespeare's Lost Sonnet.

 

 

It was found behind an Elizabethan counterpane in a country home in Bedfordshire. Scholars are continuing to examine it closely.

 

Upon a stage of love, where all do play,
The roles of heart's desire and deceit.
In gowns of silk, women oft' hold sway,
Their whims like waves that doth in tempest meet.

They shimmer bright as morning's first sunray,
Yet, change their course as swiftly as the fleet.
Anon, they love, then turn their hearts away,
Their sweetness soured, turned bitter from the sweet.

Yet, is it they who flicker and do sway,
Or our desires that wax and swiftly wane?
Forsooth, our hearts do falter in the fray,
In passion's storm, love's vessel feels the strain.

In women's hearts, a fickle flame may glow,
Yet, 'tis our own reflections they do show.

A.I. Generated Sunday Sermon.

 

Using chat.openai I entered the command:

write a 600 word sermon on the importance of Jesus Christ to the world.

This is the result, unaltered by me:

Good morning, dear brothers and sisters.

Today, let's turn our hearts and minds toward the profound impact that Jesus Christ has had on our world. Jesus, whose teachings form the bedrock of our faith, has left an indelible imprint on the soul of humanity.

Our faith is centered on the belief that Jesus is the Son of God, the Messiah, sent to Earth as a beacon of divine love and redemption. His teachings were radical for the time. His message of love, forgiveness, and equality ushered in a new era of spiritual awakening and continues to guide billions in their daily lives.

In Jesus, we see a model for living that goes beyond mere human laws. He taught us the importance of seeing the divine spark in each individual and treating others as we would wish to be treated. In His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus reminds us, “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you” (Matthew 7:12). This Golden Rule, echoed in religions and philosophies around the globe, continues to inspire individuals to lead lives of empathy, kindness, and compassion.

Jesus' sacrifice on the cross is the ultimate embodiment of His teachings, demonstrating the power of selfless love. He gave His life not for His own gain, but for the salvation of all mankind. He bore our sins, allowing us to reconcile with God. His resurrection signifies the triumph of life over death, love over hate, hope over despair. Through His sacrifice, Jesus established a new covenant with God and assured us of the potential for our own redemption and eternal life.

The world today is more interconnected than ever, and yet, divisions seem to be growing. We are challenged with the trials of intolerance, greed, and violence. Amidst such challenges, Jesus' teachings are more important than ever. He taught us to turn the other cheek, to love our enemies, to forgive, and to let go of hate. As He said, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” (Matthew 5:9).

Moreover, Jesus' message is not confined to our interpersonal relationships; it extends to our relationship with the natural world as well. In a time when environmental issues loom large, we remember that God appointed humanity as stewards of His creation. We are called to respect and protect the Earth, our shared home. Jesus' teachings inspire us towards a sustainable lifestyle that harmonizes with the creation, not against it.

In conclusion, the importance of Jesus Christ to the world cannot be overstated. His life, teachings, and sacrifice have shaped the course of human history and continue to guide billions of souls. His love and compassion represent the highest ideals of human nature. As we face the challenges of our modern world, let us remember the words of Jesus: “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

May we strive to live in Jesus’ footsteps, practicing love, compassion, forgiveness, and stewardship in our everyday lives. By doing so, we keep His spirit alive and contribute to making the world a better place. Amen.

PLASTIC BAGS CONQUER THE EARTH! (dedicated to Kelly Cryderman.)

 

                    Martian saucers cleverly disguised as a street light.

 

NEWS BULLETIN

In a remarkable turn of events, the world has received unsettling information about the ordinary plastic bag. According to a groundbreaking international scientific study released today, these omnipresent blights on our environment have been deemed not only pollutants but also a sophisticated weapon of mass destruction designed by an advanced civilization on Mars.

Dr. Amelia K. Russo, head of the International Astrobiological Society, led the research team that made this startling discovery. "It appears that we've vastly underestimated the purpose and origins of plastic bags," she said at the press conference earlier today. "Our recent findings suggest they are a premeditated attack from extraterrestrial forces on Mars."

For years, scientists have warned about the ecological hazards of plastic bags: endangering wildlife, suffocating our oceans, and contributing to landfill waste. However, the Russo team's study now indicates that these bags are meticulously designed to slowly but inexorably erode Earth's environment, paving the way for a Martian invasion.

"What's ingenious, and utterly terrifying, is the subtlety of their approach," Dr. Russo elaborated. "The Martians have used our own consumerism and disregard for the environment against us, deploying these destructive agents under the guise of convenience. Each discarded bag not only pollutes our environment but also emits a biochemical signal towards Mars, alerting them to the readiness of our planet for takeover."

The study, carried out over five years and involving astrobiologists, chemists, physicists, and environmental scientists from all over the world, also revealed the likely timeline of the imminent Martian invasion. Based on the rate of signals being emitted by these plastic bags and the distance between Mars and Earth, the research team has estimated that the Martian forces are due to arrive in November 2024.

This revelation has sparked immediate response from governments worldwide, as a special session of the United Nations was convened to discuss this unprecedented threat. Secretary-General Amara Kofi called for a worldwide ban on the use of plastic bags and urged member countries to invest in research on countermeasures against the impending invasion.

"Immediate action is of utmost importance," said Kofi. "We are facing a threat not just to our environment but to our very existence. We must stand united to protect our planet and thwart these Martian plans."

Meanwhile, panic has begun to grip the world. The stock market has seen a massive sell-off, with the Dow plunging 20%. Many have started hoarding supplies and preparing for doomsday scenarios. Others, however, are skeptical, questioning the validity of the research and demanding further evidence.

Nevertheless, scientists worldwide have begun working on potential defense strategies and studying the plastic bags more closely to understand their construction and communication methods. Dr. Russo's team is urging the public to remain calm but vigilant.

"We are working around the clock," Dr. Russo said. "Our goal is to neutralize the Martian attack and ensure the safety of humanity. We are in a race against time, but I believe in our collective strength and ingenuity."

As the countdown to November 2024 begins, the world stands on a precipice. The humble plastic bag, long seen as a nuisance and environmental hazard, has now become a symbol of an extraterrestrial threat. Only time will tell how humanity responds to this Martian menace.

-ENDS-

The Carbon Savings Account. (Dedicated to Cloey Callahan.)

 

 

In the crossroads where profit and planet align,
A fresh path for savings doth shine.
Born of both duty and design,
The Carbon Savings Account, a solution fine.

Employees gather, their fortune to amass,
Under the green flag of sustainability, a novel class.
While business in its wisdom casts
A future-facing vision, breaking from the past.

CSAs, they call this emergent fund,
A boon to worker, Earth, and everyone.
Encouraging efficient homes, the work's not done,
Till every car reflects the warming sun.

Employers pave the way, their coins bestowed,
Helping each worker lighten their load.
Transitioning lifestyles, sustainable modes,
In the realm where finance and futures code.

Invested in the team, and Earth's protection,
Grows a symbiotic, virtuous connection.
Mutual benefit in this rare intersection,
Of corporate goals and eco-direction.

Account by account, house by house,
Silently, we combat the giant, Climate's spouse.
Investing in tomorrow, our hopes rouse,
In this green financial powerhouse.

So let the Carbon Savings Account take flight,
A beacon in the sustainability night.
Fostering futures, radiant and bright,
In the intersection of economy and Earth's right.